


Sun, Star, Moon

by YoukaiArchives



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22320268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoukaiArchives/pseuds/YoukaiArchives
Summary: The Three Fairies of Light give Reimu a lot of trouble.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Sun, Star, Moon

I am the sun. I am shiny on the shrine and big in the sky, and the sun is glad to be me for a day. The shrine says it is too early for dawn! But I am here now and the red-white is not here to say no to morning. She is out, gone, away! Out with black-white and purple-gold and pink and so many strange colours, and I am still here, busy, busy, fairy-busy.

I pick up my hammer that I took and my nails that I found and I build big mischiefs on this little shrine, my shrine for one big, sunny day. I am building a house for her big frowns and bigger shouts, and when I think of what this board will make it turns factoryful and I am so pleased with planks. I and it will make her frowns into smiles and shouts into laughs, and I will put the smiles on my face and the laughs in my breath and walk away with all of them, mine, mine, mine!

She's here! She flies and lands and stomps and huffs, she sees the footprints I marked my gravel with, the leaves I rolled in. She doesn't see the board across the path, she is so high up and it is all the way on the ground, and also I made it disappear. I am sun-bright and sun-warmed and she is so, so sun-blind. She trips! She falls! She's red and white and all over mudsome, and I am the sun sinking over the horizon on my glitter-gauze wings.

* * *

I am the stars that sparkle in the night, and also I am the stars that sparkle on the snow where I am lying because it is only afternoon. There is a shrine over me, wooden, big, boring. A house made of tree, but boring, boring, a wrong treehouse. I will change it and make it upset-shaped! I will nurture the rudeness in the matchstick beams, I will make it grow until the wood bursts, and I know this will annoy the loud snorer inside but she will never stop me!

I lay down a blanket warm and fluffy in the cold wet snow, and pile my little helpers on it, safe from the damp. They are small and dark and all tangly fuses, and all of us will make the day very very warm. We'll make a beautiful evening of splinters and matches, and clever little fairies! I am the stars that sparkle in the all day long, this chaos is my present from me to me, and I accept graciously because every day is my birthday.

I pet every unfairy-made fairy-stolen bomb, I tell them how good they are and I light them one by one. Crash! Boom! The shrine is red and orange and toasted all over. I am knocked away explosion-soaring, I touch the sun, moon and stars and think warm thoughts of stealing them. The blasts are loud and the shouting useless fairy hunter is louder, but my giggling in the night is the loudest of all and I will not hear them.

* * *

I am the moon that hangs tall and solemn in the sky. I am the moon weighed to ground, heavy with thought. I come in the dead of night to weave befuddlements and confoundify the shrine's owner. I make many reasons for this, which is called rhetoric, and mine is as large, golden and beautiful as my hair. The others are reckless, but I study my target, I fix my bright fairy eyes on her and I know that she sleeps deeply at night. Let's see the others think of that!

I will not see what they think, because I am very far away and the glory is all mine, and although they will not see me do these things they will know it's true, because these are very clever things I would surely do every night. I keep quiet because the wonderful good sound of me should only be mine, and the rattle of the big words should also be mine. They are big because they are on letter-tiles, and the humans say the tiles belong on a board, but I have them all in my pockets now and they show I am a fairy with many words that rattle and clink. They are all too big too close to the sun, and it cooks their tall-thoughts.

Finally I am here to mischiefy her evening peaces, I take my inky brush and do not even mind the smudges it left in my pockets because I am so dedicated. I wonder if the other fairies know to write, I think deep thoughts and I decide they do not. My brush dances and wiggles and most of all it draws, it slides, it makes a rude ugliness and mockment of her sleep face, and I prance and scholar-frolic in the quiet room with my dripping brush, but before I leave with my triumphings, I snatch an orange from her table, because I am also a very wicked fairy.

* * *

We are the sun in your eyes the stars through your broken roof the moon that sneaks up on you when you thought there was still day. We are the fairies of tricks and jokes and pretty pretty lights, and we make caper-war on your very boring world.


End file.
